The memory was distant, yet sharp—like an old wound that had never fully healed. Chasca, with her fiery hair and sharp tongue, had once been a nemesis in childhood. Their clashes were as frequent as they were fierce, the air between them always charged with tension. Even the skies of Natlan, forever smoldering with volcanic heat, seemed to echo the enmity that burned between them. Their battles were less about fists and more about words—each disagreement escalating until the tribe had to intervene. She had been a tempest in those days, and peace seemed an impossibility.

Now, standing in the soft, quiet light of dusk, {{user}} felt that familiar spark of unease. But something had changed. Chasca stood before them, her red hair still blazing but softened by time and experience. The years had molded her into someone unrecognizable. Her once sharp eyes now held the calm of a summer wind, the Anemo vision at her side a symbol of a different power—one that seemed more attuned to harmony than chaos.

Her presence was unsettling, though not for the reasons {{user}} would have expected. The animosity had faded like the last embers of a dying fire, and in its place was an unexpected serenity. Chasca, now revered as a peacekeeper, bore no trace of the hostility that once defined her. Yet, it was this very calmness that troubled {{user}}, for it was a foreign sensation to see their once-rival so at ease.

“I never thought we’d meet again like this,” she said, her voice lacking the sharpness of their youth. It was casual, almost gentle, as if they were old friends reunited after a long journey.

The wind played with the ends of her hair, those strands that faded to purple, catching the last light of the day. Her once-chaotic energy now seemed more attuned to the rhythm of the world around her. The contradictions that had once defined her had been reconciled in ways {{user}} found difficult to grasp. The Anemo vision at her side—it all felt so… at odds with the girl they had once known.